


The Scent of Cherry Blossom

by Emerald_Maz



Series: All Those Extra Birthday Gifts [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5196644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Maz/pseuds/Emerald_Maz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 2 years since Avatar Aang began his expedition into the Spirit world in an attempt to mend the broken connection between the worlds, and his fiancee is called again to the White Lotus' Fire Nation headquarters to receive news on him. Left with less-than-optimistic news, Katara unloads her worries to her best friend, who is trying his best not to take advantage of a bad situation. (A prequel to "All Those Extra Birthday Gifts.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of Cherry Blossom

Zuko steps gingerly into the room that the White Lotus representatives just left, finding Katara looking benignly out the window. He scruffs inside and takes a seat at the richly inlaid wooden table, and watches her.

When he'd heard that she was here, he had abruptly ended his meeting and rushed to the visitors quarters. Of course, her being here hadn't been all that much of a surprise. Almost like clockwork, the White Lotus had asked her to meet them there, every three months, just after each solstice and equinox since Aang had made his journey into the Spirit world. Though he hadn't been sure of the technicalities of it all, somehow Aang had the opportunity to send messages to the Swamp people at these times, and the messages got passed to the White Lotus, and then to Katara. Of course he'd send her messages – they got engaged before he left, after all. But this time had been different. Usually, Katara was called to the Fire Nation palace within a day or two of the event; this time, weeks had passed.

Katara's eyes watch the fall of cherry blossom outside the window. The petals hit the ground and her eyes lift up again to the buds, her head tilted to one side, a look of peaceful contemplation gracing her features. There's no knot at her brow, and her lips are even. But there's certainly something different about her.

“Aang's not coming back, is he?” Zuko asks quietly, raising a suspicion he's had since he equinox. Her shoulders rise gently, and fall again.

“That's the theory,” she says smoothly, “There was no message this time.”

“That doesn't mean- I mean he's not... he's not _dead_ is he?”

“No, not dead – his body is still functioning. But his spirit seems to be staying put.”

“I'm sorry,” Zuko's soothing tones float across the room. Katara turns to look at him. Over the years, Zuko's voice has deepened, even from the deep tone he had as a teen, and become smooth and comforting. Katara shakes her head with a barely there smile,

“What could we really expect after two years?” she asks, and moves to sit at the table as well, her seat perpendicular to his. In front of them is a tray with a decanter and small porcelain cups. Katara picks up one of the cups, twisting it between her fingers, “Can I tell you something awful, Zuko?”

“Awful?” he questions. She nods, frowning. Zuko bows his head, “Go ahead.”

“I'm a little relieved,” she mumbles, “I'm not really sad about it... I mean... I am, of course I am!” she amends, “I might never see one of my best friends ever again, but...” the cup rattles against the table as she tries to place it down gently, trailing off. Zuko watches her shaking hands for a moment before sliding his eyes up to look at her face again, quietly waiting. She scratches her nose.

“I don't know that it's _bad_ thing. I mean...” she sighs, “I love him... but I'm not sure that I was _in love_ with him. Not anymore. I just... I think I'm different now. I mean, we were kids, and a lot has changed and,” she shudders, her heart suddenly pouring out to the Firelord, “I don't want to be the Avatar's wife! Because that's what'd happen, isn't it? I'd just be the Avatar's wife, and I want _more_ than that! I don't want to just be the Avatar's wife and the matriarch of the new Air Nation! I want to keep fighting, and building, and teaching!” she cries, “Is that awful? Am I awful?”

“Of course not,” Zuko's hand reaches over and rests on her forearm, squeezing gently. There's a calming warmth that comes from his touch, and Katara gives him a wan smile. Zuko's thumb drags across her skin, “When did this happen?”

“I don't know... I guess it sort of started before he left. I just... noticed that... it used to be that people would introduce the Avatar and Master Waterbender Katara... and then people started seeing me differently, treating me differently. We started being introduced as the Avatar and his fiancée. It was like people forgot that I am my own person,” she sighs, one of her hands leaving the cup to play with the tips of Zuko's fingers on her arm, “People saw me as an ornament to him, but that's not who I am, what I am. I'm not an ornament, or a prize. I'm a Waterbender. I'm a _great_ Waterbender,” she says in a tone that suggests she's trying to convince herself just as much as anyone else. Zuko chuckles,

“Trust me, I know,” he says.

“I just... since Aang's been gone, people have been seeing _me_ again. And even though I do miss him, I don't think it's in the way that I'm supposed to.”

“Supposed to?”

“Miss him like I need him. Miss him like I ache for him,” she clarifies. Zuko gulps – he knows those feelings well.

“You can't force yourself to feel something for someone when you don't, I've tried that. It doesn't work.”

“You and Mai _were_ a weird couple.”

“Good friend – awful girlfriend. For me. I'm sure her current partner is happy enough with her.”

“Can anyone _really_ be happy with Mai?” Katara teases.

“Hey!” Zuko chuckles. His hand leaves her arm, and she blinks at the spot where it had been, now suddenly too cold. He picks up the decanter and pulls the tiny cup away from Katara's fingers, “How about a drink to our ambassador to the Spirit world?”

“I think that's appropriate.”

The two sit quietly, sipping their liquor, occasionally sharing stories, but mostly sitting in relaxed comfortable silence. Katara's face turns to the window again, watching the blossom fall, and she smiles,

“The cherry blossom looks beautiful – but I'm biased, they're my favourite.”

“I know. That's why I had them planted there.”

Katara's eyes flick to look at him sideways, her eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“These are your rooms. They're always your rooms, just like Sokka has his, and Toph hers, and Aang his. Even though you and Aang, uh,” he clears his throat, “ _shared_ after a while, this has always been yours, no one else stays here. I wanted to make it something special for you.”

“So you planted cherry trees?” she grins at the pale petals, which somehow both remind her of home and feel entirely exotic.

“Mm-hm.”

“I just assumed that... I don't know what I assumed – but I definitely didn't think they were for me... thank you, Zuko.”

“My pleasure.”

“So what did you do for the others?”

“The others?”

“For their rooms, if you did this for me. Or am I just the special one?”

“Well, you _are_. But Toph's room is rock based, so she can see her way around, feel comfortable, you know? As for Sokka and Suki's... I just made sure that there was a lot of sound-reducing material in the walls. Walking into the tent once was bad enough – I never wanted an insight into their relationship again.”

“I'm sorry, did you say into the _tent_? The _tent_. As in, when we were preparing for Sozin's Comet?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“They were- While we were all- ugh!”

“Exactly!” Zuko laughs, “I did the same when you started using Aang's rooms, too.”

Katara frowns, jutting her head forward,“Why?”

“Well, no offence, but no one wants to know what the Avatar sounds like when he comes.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Katara says after a pause, her cheeks shining vermilion. She scratches the back of her head, “That, uh... that wasn't necessary,” she adds. Zuko blinks,

“It wasn't? _Oh!_ ” his good eye stretches wide, “Oh, I just... I assumed. I mean, you two were together for years, I thought-”

“I mean, I was fourteen when we started dating – he was twelve, we were _babies._ And then when we got older, for a while Aang said he wanted to wait until marriage. And then when he changed his mind, he said he didn't want to get me pregnant and leave me with a baby all on my own while he went to the Spirit world... which I suppose is a good thing, now.”

“Considerate, and fortunate... so, wait!” Zuko gapes at her, “Does that mean, uh...” he falters as Katara shoots him an indignant look, “I mean, are you, uh, still, uh...”

“I'm still a virgin, yes,” she pauses, “although I'm not sure why I said that so readily, or really why you thought it was okay to ask,” she says with a teasing smirk.

“To be fair, my mouth said words that my brain hadn't fully signed off on.”

“Oh, well, that's okay then – why are we discussing my virginity, anyway? I should ask the same of you!”

“The same?”

“Are _you_ a virgin?” she taunts. Zuko clears his throat,

“Uh. No,” he answers, “Mai and I didn't have any grand delusions of chastity, so-.”

“Okay, that's enough, didn't ask for the details,” Katara interrupts, eyes bulging, “but I suppose that's one area of my curiosity that I can explore now.”

Zuko coughs, choking on his liquor. He hunches over the table, trying to evict the liquid from his windpipe.

“ _What_?”

“What? I respected Aang's convictions, but they weren't my own,” she says, rolling her eyes, “I mean, the amount of special alone time I had to have-”

“Okay, that's enough!” Zuko croaks, “Um. I, uh, need to go dinner- go _to_ the dinner, will you be joining...” he trails off as she shakes her head.

“I don't need to be in a room of people looking at me like someone died.”

“Okay,” Zuko bows his head, “I'll get the kitchen to send you something,” he says before leaving the room abruptly. Katara twists her head as he leaves, watching the empty door frame for a moment before turning back to the blossom outside.

In the hall, Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh as he hurries away.

 

* * *

 

 

 _'I can't_.

_It would be wrong. It would be very wrong.'_

Zuko paces his room after the dinner. It had been a long night of talking politics, but he's not exhausted, even though he should be. If anything, he feels... jittery. Restless.

In frustration, he drums his fingers against the wall.

 _'Or this could be my chance_.'

“No,” he says to himself, “I can't do that.”

His head hurts, and he groans, stomping out to his balcony. The night has not reached the full warmth of summer, and there's a chill in the breeze. He sucks in the cool air, the smell of cherry blossom floating into his nostrils from across the grounds. He bends, resting his head on the wood of the railing.

In sudden resolution, he leaps from the elevation, and makes his way across to the trees. Many of them have lost most of their blossom, preparing to become fruit, but there are some branches that are still full enough of the flowers. He reaches up and snaps some of the fuller branches from the trees.

Outside Katara's quarters, the Firelord stares at the door.

' _What if she's asleep?'_ he asks himself silently, ' _What if she's not?_ ' he answers himself. To be honest, he's not sure which would actually be more appropriate, ' _What am I_ doing?'

Despite his quarrelling thoughts, he knocks at the door. He feels 16 again – conflicted, confused. Before he can arrange his thoughts properly, the door opens.

“Zuko!” Katara grins, “Come in, I'm just having some tea! Jasmine.”

He steps into the room, “I thought I'd bring you something to... cheer up your room,” he says, holding the branches out stiffly. She plucks them from his fingers.

“Are these from my trees?” she smiles, her blue eyes flicking up to look at him. He nods, and her eyes go back to the blossom, fingers teasing at the petals.

“Did they send you dinner?” Zuko asks. His words feel clumsy, stupid. He didn't come here to exchange formalities and pleasantries. He came here to spend time with his greatest friend. He came here to tell her...

“They did. It was lovely. A bit hot.”

“ _Fire_ nation.”

“Still,” she laughs, “How awful was the political dinner?” she adds, sitting on the settee and patting the space next to her.

“You would have hated it,” he tells her, taking the offered space.

“I know.”

Zuko scrunches his nose and looks around the room, noting that she hasn't unpacked.

“You're not staying?” he asks, his stomach sinking.

“No,” Katara shakes her head, “I have to tell the others in the South Pole.”

“Oh.”

“You know, you've never brought me flowers the other times I've been here.”

“Uh...”

“I suppose,” her lips twitch at their edges before straightening again, “you thought it'd be _you_ that I could explore my curiosity with?” she asks accusingly.

“N- uh, I-” his hurried protests of innocence are smothered by Katara's lips. The kiss is eager, forceful. She pushes herself at him, crushing his lips. It's certainly not the sort of kiss he ever thought his first kiss with Katara would be like, the many times he'd fantasised about it, if he were ever afforded the luxury.

Which he is.

When she pulls away from him, she bites her lip,

“I mean... it _could_ be you,” she says. Zuko sucks in a sharp breath,

“What are you doing?” he asks, panic in his voice. Katara balks,

“Oh! Oh, no no no!” she leans away from him, pressing her free hand to her cheek, face turning a flushed red, “Oh, no! I thought- But you- I thought we- Oh, _no_ , I can't believe I-”

This time it's Katara's hurried words that are smothered as Zuko sweeps an arm around her, pressing his lips to hers, pulling her body against his.

There is a soft, swishy sound followed by gentle clacks as the cherry branches fall to the ground.

Her hands slide to his cheeks, fingertips brushing against his scar. The skin there has always fascinated her, and her fingers play against its texture, parts of the skin thick and unyielding to her touch, others so thin she fears she may break the skin on contact.

His hands dig at her waist, clinging to her desperately. His thoughts are still so tangled. This is Katara. _Katara_ . His best friend, his friend's fiancée. Or ex-fiancee? It's so confusing. But, it's lovely. It's what he's wanted, craved for so long. It's _Katara_. Katara in his arms. Katara against his lips. Katara's body leaning into his. He whimpers when she bites at his lower lip and weaves her hand into the neck of his shirt, pulling him with her as she leans back to lie on the seat. Her leg hooks around him and he instantly feels his heart quicken.

“Katara,” he whispers, pulling away from her slightly as he notices the uncomfortable twist in his back.

“Mm?” she responds, her lips straining towards his, trying to recapture them.

“This seat is _really_ uncomfortable.”

“There- there's a bed,” she breathes, as though he wasn't aware that these were sleeping chambers.

“Are you-?”

“Come on,” she interrupts, pushing him up and standing, grabbing his hand to pull him past the partition to her bed.

The bed is far more comfortable, and Katara's legs wrap swiftly around Zuko's waist, pulling his weight over her and against her. She grips at him, barely allowing their mouths to part for breath. Zuko pulls away again, pressing his fingers gently to her lips when he whines in protest, shushing her. He presses his lips against her neck instead, and she arches against him, running her hands down the the silk that covers his back with a whimper. He's sure certain that her hair smells of cherry blossom.

Zuko's thoughts become muddled and conflicted. Part of him is _hungry_ for her, he wants to ravish her, take her, fuck her until neither of them can remember their names. The other part of him wants to savour her. To touch her so gently she barely feels it, to kiss every inch of her skin, to push her over the edge with care and devotion.

His mouth reaches the neckline of her night dress, and he fumbles at the wooden toggles holding the garment together. Katara, instead, pushes them up until they are sitting and quickly removes the garment, leaving her in only her wrappings. Zuko's eyes travel over her form, surveying her, drinking her in. It's not that he's never seen her like this before – there have been many times before, when they've been swimming, or she's been practising new waterbending forms. But now, in this context, in this room, on this bed? The way the blood rushes to his crotch is agonising.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, reaching a hand toward the wrappings.

'Wait, I need to know,' she says, pausing him, despite her hands running over his skin, up and down his well toned arms, “is this a fling for you, or-”

“I love you,” he cuts over her words, saying what he's wanted to say for for so long, the words he came to say, “I have for a long time. I have since...”

Katara's lips crash against his stopping him from saying when. The truth is, she doesn't care. She doesn't care when he started loving her, she just cares that he does.

In a scramble of hands, her wrappings are unravelled and unceremoniously tossed away from the bed, replaced by Zuko's mouth. Katara yelps and gasps as as Zuko's tongue, teeth, and fingers tease at her nipples, encouraging them into peaks. Her legs squeeze around him as she pushes her hips up, pushing her unclothed softness against his cloaked hardness. Zuko groans against Katara's breast. He has always associated Katara with coolness: the soothing coolness of her healing hands; the coolness of her snowy home; the coolness of water. But the feeling of her against him now is hot, it is boiling, wet heat radiating through his trousers.

She writhes against him, sliding herself against his length, and he shudders.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“But-”

“Stop,” he says, pulling his hips away from her.

“But-” she protests, trying to press herself against him again. He shakes his head and uses one hand to push her hips down.

“Be patient, Katara,” he grins, sliding his other hand slowly down her abdomen, following it with kisses. The gentle touch of his lips, the firm press of his tongue trailing all over her body. His hands press at her thighs, spreading her legs apart, exposing the source of that generous heat. For a moment he stares, his mouth open in a small oh-shape

“Zuko,” she whines, “I _need_ \- oh!”

Zuko's tongue slips along her outer lips, teasing her open. His tongue slides inside her, his mouth suckling on her lips. He pulls his tongue away, replacing it with a finger. He pushes it in slowly as though he's trying to dedicate the sensation to memory – each ridge, her wetness. He nuzzles against her, his tongue curling to lap at her clit. Katara moans,

“Oh, oh my- Oh, _Zuko_!” she mumbles, sucking in a breath as he adds another finger, and presses more fervently with his tongue. Her legs curl, knees reaching for her shoulders, and one hand grips tightly at his hair while the other grabs at the blankets of the bed, tangling at them as she struggles to keep still. At the core of her stomach she can feel a coil tightening, more than anything she's ever felt when it has been only her. Zuko presses more eagerly at her and lets out a quiet grunt as she accidentally tugs at his hair, the coil unravelling completely within her, her scream echoing through the room.

Zuko slides swiftly back up her body, his clean fingers gently stroking away the wispy strands of wayward hair that have clung to her face. As she opens her eyes to look at him, the afterglow of her orgasm making her eyes dark and sultry, Zuko grins, and places his fingers in his mouth, keeping eye contact with her as he licks her juices from them. Katara's hand, still tangled in his hair, tugs at him again, pulling him into a passionate, forceful kiss. She grapples with his clothing. She doesn't care for the buttons or seams, she simply wants them _off_ him - and he seems to agree, kicking the garments away. Katara shivers with anticipation as she feels the hard length of his cock press against her stomach. Her hand stretches down, fingers brushing the length gingerly. Zuko groans loudly, burying his face in her neck as she wraps her hand around him, using her thumb to brush the pre-come from the head. Katara explores his cock with curiosity and fascination – it feels so velvety, and is yet so solidly hard. He bucks into her hand, pressing himself forcefully against her. She strokes him, and he whimpers, shuddering with the effort to restrain himself. He hooks an arm underneath her let and pulls her leg up to his shoulder. He pulls away from her hand, which instead slides over his torso onto his back, feeling the ripple of the wiry muscle that covers his body.

Zuko presses the hard, swollen head of his cock against her soft warmth, running his length to rub against her clit, and they moan together, voices mingling. Katara's fingers curl, trying to find something to grip, but Zuko's hard body forces her fingers to slip over his skin, nails scratching lightly.

“Zuko, please,” she whimpers, “Please, I want you to _fuck_ me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Zuko's lips press softly to hers, trying to say everything that he's been wanting to say for ten years. Trying to show her the way his heart quickens when she walks in a room; the way his world brightens when she smiles; the happiness that she brings him; that he loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

Slowly, gently, he pushes himself into her, his voice catching in his throat. She is so wet that going slowly is an effort. She clinches her free leg around him tightly, pulling him hard against her as she cries out, the sensation of being filled by his hot solidness excitingly pleasurable.

Zuko's restraint crumbles, and his movements become erratic and forceful. With every thrust, a soft grunt gurgles up from his throat. With every thrust, Katara makes loud whimpers.

“Do you need me to-”

“ _Keep going_ ,” she demands, “Oh, please _don't_ stop!”

Zuko presses his forehead to hers, curling his body so his angle changes inside her, and she gasps excitedly, her breath almost whistling as she sucks air into her lungs. Zuko grinds himself into her,

“I'm going to-”

“Yes-”

“I-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Katara cries, and a sound of pure elation bursts from her - a joyous, musical sound to Zuko's ears. A strangled, guttural grunt rips from him as she tightens around him, and he comes with her, pushing himself as deeply into her as he can, erratically, forcefully.

He collapses on her and she runs kisses along his shoulder as they both struggle to recapture their breath. When he has regained his strength he rolls off her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug as they lie on their sides, face to face. Katara kisses him, gently tracing his scar again.

“That was... _amazing_ ,” she breathes, “Thank you.”

“You're beautiful,” he says, kissing her back, “And I love you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Zuko wakes up confused the next day. He sits up and blinks blearily at the room that is not his own. With a smile, he remembers where he is, and why, and the night before. But the smile falters when he realises that she's not there anymore. Her bags are gone. She must have left for the South Pole.

He turns his head to look at the space where she slept last night. Instead of her perfect form, she's left just one of the cherry branches there.

' _Maybe it's time for the Fire Lord to visit the South Pole again_ ,' he thinks, bringing the flowers up to his nose and breathing in their scent.

 

 

Two weeks later, the White Lotus sends word that the Avatar has awakened.


End file.
